parataxis
by airauralintensity
Summary: Vignettes from the rest of Bernard and Veronica's high school career.


A/N (07.10.2019): Title inspired by 'Syntax' by Maureen McLane.

To my knowledge, I'm the first person to publish Class Rank fanfiction. I hereby declare their shipname to be Bernica. Compared to the other options (Vernard/Veronard, Kraussigan, Flannikrauss), it is decidedly the best sounding while equally combining letters from their names. I'd appreciate reviews!

Disclaimer: If you recognise it, I don't claim ownership of it.

* * *

**late April 2016**

They're wandering around the mall after school because what else is there to do in Livingston on a weeknight?

Veronica is half-heartedly paying attention to Bernard's tangent about the lack of readily available recycling bins around town when they pass by the storefront for Century 21. "That would look really good on you," she cuts him off, motioning to a mannequin wearing tailored khakis, a fitted button down, and a blazer.

"Oh, not this again," Bernard groans.

She puts her hands up in the universal sign for surrender. "I'm just saying!"

"It has been a week, Veronica. Surely a woman of your intellect is aware of the colloquial definition of insanity?"

"Okay, but _why_ can't I help you pick out something to wear for our prom?"

"I am more than capable of dressing myself."

She gives him a look. He gives her one back. After a momentary staring contest, Veronica cedes. "_Ugh_, fine. Whatever. Look, I'll let it go, but you know what I'm going to wear, right?"

"Yes, you have mentioned it once or twice," he teases.

She takes it in stride. "Well, just make sure we match."

"Absolutely."

They keep walking for a while, and then Veronica comments cheekily, "After the campaign, I sort of got used to being able to boss you around."

"Well, of course. Your capability was unparalleled when it came to matters of public politics. However, when it comes to matters of style, there is no better expert than I," he jokes with a hand to his chest.

"Whatever, _Bernie_." She only uses the nickname when she's trying to get under his skin, and it's the only time he allows it. In fact, she's the only person from whom he'll tolerate it in the first place. He wonders what that means.

* * *

They arrange for her to pick him up two hours before prom starts. (_"With your mother in the passenger seat, of course?" he confirmed. "Yes, yes," she dismissed._)

It is his understanding that the person who asks the other to prom customarily arranges the transportation, but they both agreed that the Yellow Submarine will not be conducive to their needs for the evening. Moreover, as junior class president, she has to arrive early to oversee and assist with setting up. She also has items from home that she needs to bring in. It was only prudent for her to drive.

The doorbell rings four minutes later than when she said they would arrive, but he will not begrudge them those four minutes. He calls out, "Grandpa, I will be taking my leave now! I expect to arrive back at 21:30!"

"Oh no, you don't!" his grandfather calls from the attic (as opposed to from the backyard, which is where Bernard expected to hear him). The doorbell rings again, adding to Bernard's confusion. He focuses then quickly opens the front door to see both Krauss women on his porch.

Ms. Krauss effuses, "Oh, Bernard! Don't you look so handsome!"

Bernard does not respond. He is not usually this rude, but he finds that his mouth has gone dry.

Veronica is wearing the white dress she pointed out at the mall, accented with a gold purse, baby pink shoes, and a rose quartz necklace set in gilded gold. Her hair is up, but some curled tendrils escape, framing her face elegantly.

She blushes under his intense gaze, and her eyes dart side to side before asking, "Are we good to go?"

"No, you're not!" Oswald comes barrelling into the room with an old camera in hand. "Did you really think you could leave without some pitchers?"

Before Bernard could argue, Janet whips out a DSLR from her pocket. "Oswald, you read my mind," she smirked.

They move to the front porch (easily the most photogenic part of their admittedly run-down home) and pose.

Well, he tries to pose, but Veronica moves one of his hands from where they were clasped behind his back and wraps it around her waist. She rests one of her hands on his chest then faces the camera with a pretty smile.

(Later, her favourite picture is of his awed and blushing stare immediately after her reposition.)

After some pictures, Veronica calls out, "Okay, now I want some without Bernard's stupid top hat!"

He stares at her, scandalised. "What issue do you take with my top hat?!"

He is wearing an all white three-piece suit with pink dress shirt and socks, a golden pocket square, and a white top hat. Ever since he lost the election, he had taken to wearing his hair like he used to. For tonight, however, he styles it because he has a sneaking suspicion Veronica prefers it this way. Tonight really is her night, after all.

After more photos, Ms. Krauss says, "Oh! We need to get some pictures of them putting the boutonnière and corsage on each other!"

Ah yes, the decorative dead flowers. Despite his ardent efforts advocating against the superfluous and unnatural use of flora, he eventually acquiesced when Veronica insisted on its status as a tradition. He goes inside to retrieve the corsage from the dining room table, and Janet gets his boutonnière from the car.

Their respective guardians call out instructions like "Move slowly; I'm trying to get faux-candid shots here!" and "Stop yer trembling, boyo; you're ruining the pitcher!" as they awkwardly face each other.

The proximity, the attention, the sight of their significant other looking so much nicer than to what they are accustomed... it was all overwhelmingly intimate.

Veronica finishes quickly and embarrassedly proclaims, "All right, it's time to go." She grabs Bernard's hand and pulls him down the steps to the car, ignoring the shouts of their guardians behind them. She seats herself and stares pointedly out at her mother until Janet finally joins them.

On the way, Ms. Krauss says, "Doesn't Veronica look spectacular tonight, Bernard?"

"_Mom_," Veronica groans from the driver's seat.

Janet continues, "I called in a favour from one of my friends on set and asked her to do V's hair and makeup. A girl only gets one Junior Prom, you know!"

Bernard only nods, refraining from mentioning that while there is indeed only one Junior Prom, Livingston High School also hosts a Senior Prom and Homecoming. No doubt Veronica will also be attending – if not outright planning – the events, so she is certainly not lacking in similar opportunities. Instead, he quotes, "Her thoughts serenely sweet express / How pure, how dear their dwelling place."

Ms. Krauss briefly furrows her brow in wary disbelief at Bernard's… _unique_ compliment, but the look goes unnoticed by the couple as they lock eyes through the rearview mirror. Bernard holds their gaze for a long moment and does not miss the way Veronica blushes.

He clears his throat and looks away. "Please keep your eyes on the road, Veronica," he reminds her, and he can imagine the way she rolls her eyes.

As soon as she parks outside the gymnasium, Veronica is off. She doesn't even say goodbye to her mother before grabbing a large box of decorations from the trunk and hurrying insde. Instead, she calls out a reminder to pick them up at eleven. Bernard throws a "Drive safely, Ms. Krauss!" behind him before he hurries after her.

He finds her in the center of the gym, delegating tasks to the gathered student council representatives from their class. One of the chaperoning teachers assumes he's also there to help (which, he supposes he is) and immediately puts him to work.

He spends the next hour and a half arranging chairs and tables, setting up larger-than-life flower sculptures he recognises from the art room, and sneaking looks at Veronica in her element. It is not until some of his classmates start filtering in that Bernard realises the work is done and the event has started. With nothing else to do, he heads for Veronica in the back of the gym, admiring the culmination of their efforts.

When he speaks, he startles her. "I have to admire your colour palette for this evening. Not only does it match the theme your student council has meticulously put together, but they happen to be the exact colours no one wanted to rent from the Men's Warehouse, and I was able to secure a discount."

Veronica's been around him enough to know he's not entirely kidding, and that just makes her laugh harder. "Come on," she says as she holds his hand. "I happen to know the order in which Principal Greely will call up the tables to get food, and I think we deserve to be first in line, don't you?" she says mischievously.

The last time Bernard was in a social situation like this was Veronica's 'town hall meeting,' and it was a moderate success. He did not know what to expect from the evening, but he doesn't run away when Veronica suggests getting some fresh air this time.

"Lead the way."

They walk out into the hallway, close enough that they can still hear the music but far enough to feel private. She leans against the lockers, and he mirrors her.

"Thanks for helping out with setup earlier. I didn't mean to get you roped into all of that," she says softly as she plays with her fingernails.

"It was only practical, else I would have loafed about while waiting for the event to commence," he replies.

She looks at him then, and he wonders if maybe Veronica is trying to say something else.

Of course, that is when the DJ breaks the moment by introducing a slow song "for all the _young lovers_ out there" in that obnoxious voice that all DJs seem to have. A gentle piano melody echoes into the hallway, and Veronica's ears perk up.

_I could sing it in a verse to you_

"Could we dance?" she asks.

_Clear as crystal in a line or two_

"If you wish," he says as he moves to head back into the gym.

_If I talk, I have to think it through_ [1]

She reaches for his hand to keep him still. "We can stay out here," she suggests shyly.

_Let me be the hook in your favourite tune_

In response, he shifts his hand in hers and holds it up, resting his other hand at the appropriate spot on her waist. She places her free hand on his shoulder, completing the frame.

_Meet me in my melody  
_'_Cause words are sometimes hard for me, oh_

They sway side to side like that, neither one particularly leading. Amber eyes gaze into hazel, and no words pass between them.

_Not a note will play off-key  
__My heart beats a symphony for you_

The arm on his shoulder wraps around his neck, and her other follows. In response, he moves to hold her waist.

_I'm not made for witty conversation,  
__And my jokes sometimes come out all wrong_

The new position brings them closer together. Unbeknownst to the other, they are both reminded of their first kiss a week ago.

_Despite my conveyed limitations,  
__I could be the hook in your favourite song_

She gently leans her head on his shoulder, and he tilts his head so his cheek rests against her hair. While Veronica enjoys the scent of detergent mingled with citrus cologne that she is sure he bought specifically for tonight, Bernard marvels at how he almost denied both of them of this experience.

_La la la la la la la la la_

As the last notes of the song fade out and the DJ shifts into a more upbeat song, they are both shaken from their reverie. She takes a step back from him. "We, um. We better head back inside. I promised Ms. Wheatley that I'd watch the punch bowl," she states as she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" he asks, apropos of nothing.

The fluorescent lights of the hallway dim in comparison to her resulting smile, and Bernard stops wondering.

* * *

**mid May 2016**

Veronica claims it would be "cute" to do their homework together, so she invites him over to her house after school.

When they arrive, her mother looks between the two of them and, with the subtlety of a trainwreck, conveniently decides that moment would be the perfect time to get some errands done. "Let me know if you need anything while I'm out," she says to Veronica with an exaggerated wink. Veronica blushes and looks to Bernard to see his reaction. Either he has the best pokerface of all time, or the entire exchange went over his head. Knowing him, it's 50/50.

They set up in the living room and work in silence. Their customary after-school routines were inherently solitary, so the quiet is nothing new to them.

What _is_ new is being silent around each other.

It gets awkward very quickly, both feeling like they should be talking but unsure if the other would mind.

When Bernard shifts in his seat, the couch makes a noise. "What was that?" Veronica asks eagerly.

"What was what?"

"I thought you said something."

"No, I did not."

"Oh, okay."

The silence abounds until Veronica reaches the part of her To Do list where she learns 25 Latin words. She tries to simply study the cards, but she's always been an aural learner.

When she starts reading aloud, Bernard can tell she is keeping her voice low for his sake, but it is a moot endeavour. Her voice feels like it is filling up the room and his brain. He stares at his textbook and resolves to continue his diffusion calculations for AP Chemistry once she finishes, but he can only make it through eleven roots.

"Can you stop that?" he interrupts Veronica's second repetition of _delictum, -i n._ _failure._

"Excuse me?"

"When you read aloud, it is distracting."

Stunned, Veronica could do no more but put her notecards to the side and pull out her own AP Bio homework. They continued to work in silence, and Veronica found her thoughts wandering to herself and Bernard. More specifically, to how they compare as students.

Next year, she's going to take AP Lit, AP US Go/Po, and AP Music Theory; and she knows Bernard's going to take AP Lang, AP US History, and AP Chinese. They'd be equally matched in total number of AP classes taken, which means that – all other things remaining equal – Bernard will still end up #1 in senior year.

At LHS, the rankings announced in junior year are the ones reported on their student files (and thus, on the CommonApp). However, it _is_ possible that the #1 ranked student in junior year does not retain that rank for senior year, which serves as the basis for deciding valedictorian and salutatorian. She may have made amends with her official #2 ranking (at least, that's what she tells her mother), but Veronica couldn't shake off her inherent competitiveness while knowing that she still has a chance to end her high school career on top, even superficially.

"_Maybe if I did continue to read out loud, Bernard would try to do his homework anyway and mess up, which would threaten his otherwise guaranteed A in the course,"_ she thinks errantly before being appalled at her own ruthlessness.

"Okay, this isn't working out," she announces immediately.

Bernard puts down his pen and sighs in relief. "I would have to agree, though it is regretful. I know how important it was to you that we share this time together, and I would be lying if I said I was not also looking forward to it," he says.

She sighs in resignation before moving next to him on the couch and cuddling into his side. Unused to such physical displays of affection but decidedly enjoying them, he hesitates before he wraps his arm around her.

"It was so easy to hang out when we were working on your campaign," she pouts.

"Perhaps we just need to be working towards the same goal. The next time a teacher assigns a group project, we should be partners," he muses.

She smirks before lamenting, "If only. There's no way we're going to get a group project so close to the end of the marking term."

"Next time then," he says as he places a buss to the crown of her head.

"I know you probably want to go home to finish your homework, but can we just hang out here for a bit before you go?" she asks as she looked up at him.

He squeezes her to his side in assent before rummaging through his bookbag. He pulls out a copy of _Give Us the Ballot_ by Ari Berman and leans back to read, allowing Veronica to lean against his side and check the student council group chat. She snorts. "Susan is _just now_ thinking about running for senior class president."

Without looking up from his reading, he remarks, "She will find quite a formidable opponent in you, I am sure."

"Lucky for her, she won't have to find out. She'd be running against Jared Ocampo."

Bernard is taken aback. "You are not running for senior class president?"

"Of course not," she replies with a cavelier tone. "I'm running for _student body_ president."

The surprise that temporarily seized Bernard dissipates, and he comfortably returns his attention to his book. "Ah, of course. You are vying for new heights."

"Aren't I always?"

After a moment, Bernard gets an idea. "I think 'next time' arrived sooner than we anticipated." Before Veronica could voice her question, Bernard asked one of his own. "Would you be needing a campaign manager at all?"

She smirks, picking up on his meaning instantly. "I wasn't in the market for one, but I could be convinced."

"Well, I know a suitable person for the position: he recently ran for a publicly elected office himself. His own campaign manager was prudent, astute, and thorough; he probably could be the same for you."

"Honestly, I was just thinking of running my campaign myself and delegating tasks to my boyfriend when necessary. I like when I have control of things."

"But if you had a campaign manager, he could anticipate your needs as opposed to merely reacting to them."

Veronica's eyes twinkle before leaning in to give him a peck on the lips. "Alright then. I'll give this guy a chance."

(With Veronica's experience and the remnants of Bernard's popularity from the Board of Ed elections, Veronica wins handily.)

* * *

**mid June 2016**

"Hello?" Bernard queries into the receiver of his house phone.

"Bernard, get ready! I'm picking you up in twenty minutes," is all Veronica says before she hangs up.

Bernard, to his credit, prepares to leave despite his confusion. He hears a car honking outside of his house fourteen minutes later.

When he opens the door, he finds Veronica in her mom's Honda Pilot waiting for him. He walks up to the passenger window and asks, "What are you doing?"

"We're going for a drive!" she shouts excitedly.

"Where's your mother?"

"It's just you and me!"

"Veronica," he starts disapprovingly, "if you are pulled over without a supervisor in the vehicle whilst you only possess the examination permit, you would be subject to a $100 fine and a prolonged probationary period before you are allowed to test for your license. Let us not forget the likelihood of community service!"

Veronica only smirks. "I don't have the examination permit anymore."

"All the more reason you should not be driving on your own!" he continues to reprimand.

She rolls her eyes at him and reaches into her pocket for what looks like a receipt. "I got my license, you doof!" she shouts as she thrusts the paper as far in his face as she can from the driver's seat.

He takes the paper from her hand to examine it. Sure enough, at the bottom it reads, "This receipt is your temporary license. It expires 90 days from the date of the test. This receipt must be kept with your permit. Your license will be sent to you in the mail," followed by her mature signature. _VKrauss._

He looks at her, takes in the elation on her face, and jokes in reference to the score on the paper, "So you make wide turns, do you?"

She sticks her tongue out at him. "Get in the car, Bernie."

He beams at her as he hops in, finally acknowledging the significance of the moment. "I suppose congratulations are in order, then," he comments as he buckles in.

"More than that. We're going to the city!" she says as she takes off.

"What!? Why?"

"Why not? I have my _license_, Bernard!"

Her enthusiasm is infectious, and he settles back into the passenger seat and watches the scenery pass him by with a smile on his face.

They don't _quite_ make it to Manhattan. Instead, they grab food from a drive-through in Hoboken and stop at Pier A Park. They find a patch of grass to themselves so that they can eat as they gaze at the Manhattan skyline, and it's nice.

By the time they finish their food, the sun is just starting to set. Veronica watches as Bernard walks around to find a recycling bin for their empty soda bottles and chuckles when he exasperatedly stuffs them into his bookbag instead. She's leaning back on her hands, and he mirrors her pose when he returns. The fingers of the hands in between them tangle together.

Bernard looks over at her to find her already looking at him. Before he could say anything, she beats him to it.

"I love you."

Bernard can only stare.

"You don't have to say it back or anything, but I thought you should know," Veronica says with a smile.

Bernard is visibly relieved. "Thank you."

Veronica's serenity is quickly replaced with incredulity and offense. "Wait, you really don't love me back?" she asks as she draws her hand away and sits up straight.

He follows suit. "I do not know yet. I have only ever really loved Tai Yu before, and that developed naturally over the course of our correspondence." [2]

"Are you saying I don't make you feel the way Tai Yu made you feel?" Veronica demands.

Bernard, on principle, does not lie. However, he knows the truth will hurt her feelings, so he says nothing at all.

In the silence after her outburst, Veronica feels second-rate.

She _hates_ that feeling. (It doesn't escape her notice that the last time she felt this way, it was also Bernard Flannigan's fault.)

She clears her throat as she stands up abruptly. "How about we go home?" she asks, but it comes out as an order. Without waiting for his response, she turns on her heel and briskly walks in the direction of the parking lot.

Bernard scrambles to his feet, feeling off-balance in more ways than one. He approaches the car to find Veronica already in the driver's seat and the car started. As soon as the click of his seatbelt sounds, she peels out of the parking space. The sudden acceleration pitches him forward in his seat then backwards again, and the adrenaline strangely settles his heart.

"Please drive less recklessly. You are not the only one in the car," he ventures later as she merges onto the highway.

"I'm sorry, did you get your license today?" Veronica asks rhetorically. "No? Oh, did you get your license ever? Also, no? Then _stuff it_, Bernard," she ends caustically.

He wisely 'stuffs it' for the rest of the trip.

When she pulls up to his house, the passenger door is aligned with the path cutting through his front lawn to his porch. Bernard loves it when that happens, so it obviously makes her even more irate. Once he shuts the door behind him, she finally lets the tears fall as she drives away.

* * *

They don't talk for a week.

Between the two of them, Veronica is not above holding a grudge, though she would admit to herself at night that the distance causes her pain. And yet, her pride will not let her cave first. She's the one with a bruised heart here!

So when Bernard calls her in the middle of the seventh day, she automatically cancels the incoming call but eagerly opens up her mailbox to listen to the voicemail he leaves her inviting her to dinner. She waits a few hours to give off the appearance that she was busy (she was not) before texting him her response.

_I'll be there._

The next day, she smiles to herself as she dresses up to go to Bernard's house. His grandfather was out with Barabara for the evening, so Bernard offered to cook her dinner. [2] She imagines that he spent the week thinking about what he _didn't_ say, and he is making a grand gesture to make up for it.

When he answers the door, she is so chuffed that she doesn't notice his anxiety. She misses the way his hands tremble as he pulls out a chair for her, the way his voice stammers as he announces what he made for dinner. The meal progresses with idle small talk on both of their ends, and Veronica slowly loses her illusionment as she realises he hasn't said those three, all important words to her yet.

"Don't you have something you'd like to tell me?" she finally asks with a coquettish tone.

Her own anxiety spikes when Bernard takes a deep breath to steady himself and looks her in the eyes. Those were _not_ the eyes of a man in love. He begins, "You asked me if you make me feel the way Tai Yu made me feel; and the truth is, you do not. I suspect you already knew that, but that is not to say I do not feel anything when I am with you. That would be _patently _untrue."

It would be an understatement to say Veronica was not expecting that. Tears of frustration and embarrassment burn her eyes, and the feelings are only exacerbated as Bernard continues.

"I can say with complete certainty that I was in love with Tai Yu. She is my _first love_, and I posit it is only natural that my first serious relationship since being with her is wrought with confusion for me. Surely, if I were in love with you too, I would recognise the feeling?" he asks, almost to himself. He looked down as he spoke, but he brings his gaze back to hers when he continues, "But I feel differently with you, and sometimes it feels like… more."

His eyes are imploring, but Veronica is indignant. Caught up in her own emotion, she can only hear that he does not love her back. She opens her mouth to launch into a scathing retort that may or may not end with a complete severance of their relationship, but Bernard quickly and earnestly finishes with, "I do not have a word for it yet. I may not be ready to call it love, but I ask you – if I am even in a position to ask anything of you – to see it for what it is instead of for what it is not."

Veronica meets her boyfriend's gaze with barely concealed frustration. She hates that his authenticity allays her ire so easily, that she is left with nothing but pain now, that despite everything that happened, she can still love him as she does. She tries her damndest to keep the tears at bay and her voice steady as she asks, "And what _is_ it, exactly?"

Her voice was steady, but it was acerbic, too. She cannot bring herself to feel remorse for it, however, and Bernard takes it in stride. "It is the fact that I have never been able to see Tai Yu's reactions to anything I did, but sometimes when you smile at something I say, I lose focus on my surroundings. It is the fact that I have only known you for a matter of months, but you have become indispensable to me. It is the fact that not talking to you for this past week has been painful, but it does not compare to the agony of knowing that I am hurting you by not knowing how I feel."

At the last sentence, Veronica closes her eyes and finally allows the tears to fall. She gives herself a moment to recalibrate and then nods, once, twice, before looking Bernard in the eyes. "Alright."

"Pardon me?"

She nods again, frantically brushing more tears off of her cheeks and sniffling. "I will try to see it for what it is instead of what it isn't."

Bernard stands up from his seat to go to her side. He reaches down to her; when she places her hand in his outstretched palm, he pulls her up to a hug. She immediately clutches him closer, and he murmurs "Thank you for your patience" into her neck.

* * *

**early July 2016**

When Bernard learns that Veronica has no solid plans for Independence Day aside from the town barbeque, he is eager to invite her family to join his family in their festivities.

(The way he calls it 'Independence Day' instead of 'the Fourth of July' indicates to her that the holiday means way more to him than to the average citizen; but if she really thinks about it, _of course_ Bernard is extremely patriotic.)

Veronica is not surprised when her mom begs off of the ceremonial raising of the flag at dawn. When she finds herself driving to town square at 4:15 am, she wonders why she didn't do the same.

Bernard breaks away from the small crowd gathered by the flagpole as she parks her car. "I am pleased you were able to make it. Thank you for being early," he says as he holds her hand and guides her to where he was standing with his grandfather.

Through a yawn, Veronica says, "Of course, Bernard. Wouldn't miss this for the world, much less for a few extra hours of sleep."

"Oh, please. If you can still be sarcastic, how tired can you really be?" he jests.

"More tired than that rebuttal, I assure you."

Bernard looks at his watch and actually bounces on the balls of his feet in excitement. "It should be starting soon," he says eagerly.

Veronica pulls his watch over and looks at the time. She sees the clock change from 4:31 to 4:32 am.

Just then, someone steps on the base of the flagpole, elevating him above the crowd. A few more people showed up since she arrived, but not that many. He clears his throat once and begins performing the Star Spangled Banner.

_On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the deep,  
Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence reposes,  
What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering steep,  
As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses?_

And a performance it was. As the man's soothing baritone delivered the lesser known verses of Francis Scott Key's _magnum opus_, someone in the background raised the flag inch by inch.

_Now it catches the gleam of the morning's first beam,  
In full glory reflected now shines in the stream:_

In the otherwise-stillness of the night, the entire moment seemed very poignant.

'_Tis the star-spangled banner! O, long may it wave  
O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!_

Of course, Veronica immediately noticed that the reader began out of order, and as he continued she figures out why.

Somehow, he managed to time his delivery of the true first verse so that he said 'by the dawn's early light' just as the flag reached full-mast and as the sky lit up with the first streaks of morning.

Though Veronica is appreciative of having the privilege of being born in the United States, she never considered herself to be very patriotic. However, with the vision of the American flag flowing softly in the morning breeze against the backdrop of the pitch black sky being chased away by the sun… there were tears in her eyes. The only thing that could have drawn her attention away from the sight is–

Bernard slips his hand into hers, and in her surprise she jerks her head to face him. Like she was a moment ago, Bernard is facing upwards, enraptured at the proceedings. Unlike her, he lets his tears fall down his cheeks. She can see that his grandfather is holding his other hand and is in much the same state as his grandson.

Without tearing his gaze away, Bernard squeezes her hand once, so she faces the flag just in time to hear the man recite the final "_O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave!_"

By now, the sky is fully aglow with the colours of dawn. After a moment of reverent silence, the man speaks up again, thanking everyone for coming out to start their Independence Day with them. Some people clap, some people walk up to him to talk, and some people go back home.

Veronica looks around incredulously. How can people just move on from that whole experience? Did they not feel what she just did? Impossible; and yet, everyone else is going about their morning as though they didn't.

"Thank you, again, Veronica, for coming to the ceremonial raising of the flag. I understand this is not the ideal way to begin the holiday, but it really means a lot to me," Bernard says from her side.

She turns to see him wiping away the tear tracks on his face just as Oswald puts his hand on Bernard's shoulder in affection.

"Uh, sure, of course, no problem, yeah," she stammers in mild confusion as she reels over the intense emotion she just experienced. Already, she can feel it ebbing as she comes back to herself, but the aftereffects are very much so present. "Um, so what's next, again?"

"Grandpa and I are going back home to make breakfast, and then we convene with the Livingston Historical Society to get into costume for the reenactment of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Will you be joining us for either of those?"

Veronica inwardly snickers at how nerdy her boyfriend and his family are. On the outside, she nods over her shoulder at where she parked her car. "I'll give you a ride home in exchange for the free breakfast, but I'll have to take a pass on the reenactment."

"If you insist, though I must warn you: it will be riveting this year."

"Sure, if the halfwit playing Hancock would stop snickering at his name!" Oswald snarks.

Together, they pack up the Yellow Submarine into her mom's Honda Pilot. When she starts the car, the radio clock reads 5:07 am. She is mildly disappointed when Bernard sits in the back with his grandfather, but she gets to make eye contact with him through the rearview mirror and share secret smiles, so it's not all bad.

* * *

She honestly does think about surprising Bernard by attending the reenactment, but she accidentally sleeps through it (and she can't bring herself to feel guilty about it). She walks to his house to hang out for a little bit and hear all about his rousing performance as Abraham Clark, but no one answers the door. A few more attempts result in no change, and she is miffed at the thought that Bernard could be ignoring her for missing the reenactment. She storms back home just as her mother pulls into the parking lot.

"Veronica, honey! Help me bring this all in."

'This all' ends up referring to several pounds of veggie burgers, accompanying burger buns, and sets of condiments. "What's this for?"

"I ran into Marcia Hernandez at the Declaration of Independence thing that the Flannigans invited us to," – she says with a pointed look, and Veronica gives a little shrug – "and she was all in a huff about how she wasn't going to be able to make the veggie burgers for the Livingston Barbeque that she signed up to make! And I said, 'You know what, Marcia? I'm not doing anything for the barbeque, why don't I make your share?' So I went to the grocer's, and wouldn't you know it, they _only_ had veggie burgers left! Can you imagine-"

"You think you can cook enough veggie burgers for all of Livingston in four hours?" Veronica cuts in disbelievingly.

Her mom has the grace to look sheepish. "How many vegetarians can there be?"

They spend the next few hours as a well-oiled machine, cooking the veggie burgers in as many different appliances as possible (microwave, stove, grill, you name it) and arranging the food in some extra aluminum trays they had in their kitchen.

They are just heading out when the Flannigans happen to arrive. Bernard's mouth twists into a moue at the sight of all the plastic plates and utensils still in the bags from the supermarket. With the tact of a trainwreck, he asks, "Ms. Krauss, don't you want your grandchildren to live without fear of dioxin poisoning?"

"Excuse me?!" "Boyo?" Janet and Oswald exclaim at the same time.

Veronica, who noticed where her boyfriend's attention was before he opened his big dumb mouth, immediately understands his train of thought and rolls her eyes. She speaks up to diffuse the situation, "Mom, how about you and Oswald take the food to the park and start setting up? Bernard and I are just gonna take his bike to the supermarket and exchange some of this stuff for greener options."

Bernard looks at her with pride, which is almost enough to offset her previous annoyance with him.

After parking his bike outside of the local supermarket, Bernard goes to the aisle with the disposables and intently searches for compostable replacements. Veronica follows boredly behind him with a shopping cart.

"I went by your house earlier today," Veronica speaks up as Bernard inspects the packaging of a pack of paper plates.

"Correct," he says offhandedly.

"Like at noon, not this morning," she corrects.

"Oh, after the reenactment? Grandpa and I took a nap," Bernard says as he returns the package to the shelf, clearly dissatisfied and not paying very much heed to the bite in her tone.

Veronica flushes in embarrassment at her misunderstanding of the situation but is overall pleased with its resolution. With her feelings allayed, she skips up behind him and looks over his shoulder. "What's wrong with the other paper plates? There was a little recycling icon on it."

"Just because the packaging has green motifs and the recyclable symbol on it does not mean the product itself is manufactured with post-consumer recycled materials," Bernard huffs as he rejects yet another package.

Veronica rolls her eyes in fondness. "Come on, Bernard. You know as well as I do that PCR products are too expensive for most mainstream supply chains."

"Does that mean I should not endeavour to buy them anyway?" Bernard challenges as Veronica goes back to some of the other items and puts them in their cart.

"Alright, here's the deal. I'll ring these up, you go 'encourage' the manager to consider purchasing some more sustainable products, and we'll set up some clearly marked composting bags by the veggie burgers. Sound good?" As she says this, she is already headed towards check-out, but her stride slows when she feels his hand rest over hers on the handle of the shopping cart. "You are most adept at compromise," Bernard states. Veronica is flattered by the open look of wonder on his face.

* * *

Bernard strolls over to where Veronica is putting away the remnants of their barbeque booth into the trunk of her mom's car. "Are you heading home already?"

She spares him a glance as she works. "Yeah, once mom finishes getting her fix of the neighbourhood gossip."

"You'll miss the fireworks," Bernard states.

Veronica looks at him in confusion. "I didn't think you'd be into those. They're not very utilitarian."

Bernard gives an acceding shrug. "Intellectually, I cannot condone their use; but neither can I deny the curious adrenaline rush that a well-planned Independence Day show engenders in me."

Veronica shakes her head fondly. "I don't know… I'm exhausted. I was up before the crack of dawn at some dummy's behest, you know," she jokes.

"Perhaps this individual is under the impression you very much appreciated the morning festivities… and also takes issue with being called a 'dummy,'" Bernard defends, stammering with the colloquialism.

Veronica snorts. "No, he's certainly still a dummy." She looks down and to the side. "But I love him anyway," she says with a seemingly nonchalant shrug.

Having turned away, Veronica misses the look of determination that settles over Bernard's face.

"Please stay," Bernard implores after a beat of silence.

Veronica searches his face for a long moment. Having seemingly found what she was looking for, she whispers,"Okay."

She fires off a text to her mom letting her know that they don't have to leave until after the firework show, to which her mom replied with an emoji of a male and female kissing followed by several fireworks emojis. Veronica hastily shoves her phone away in embarrassment, even knowing that Bernard wouldn't see it, and follows her boyfriend to where the treeline meets the park.

"It is rather difficult to find privacy at an event like this. All things considered, however, I think this is an excellent location to view the proceedings," he says as he motions for her to sit on the blanket he had spread out.

"What ever will we be needing privacy for, Bernard?" Veronica teases, and Bernard does not dignify her with a response.

The sun finally sets, and someone nearby excitedly guesses that "the fireworks won't be long now!" Veronica yawns and stretches, falling back on her hands.

Bernard mimics her pose, the fingers of the hands in between them tangled together.

Immediately feeling deja vu, Veronica looks over at Bernard to find him already looking at her. Before she could say anything, he beats her to it.

"I love you."

Veronica only stares.

"You don't have to say it back or anything, but I thought you should know," Bernard says with a smile.

Veronica feels like a ghost that's been following her around for the last few weeks has finally left her alone. "Thank you, Bernard," she says, but it's lost in the sound of the first firework going off.

* * *

**late Aug 2016**

To pass the time, they decide to embark on a book club of sorts. With Veronica's license, they've been able to travel all over the metropolitan New Jersey area just to spend the day reading _Heat and Light_ by Jennifer Haigh in the summer shade. That was the plan for today as well, but it ended up being so unbearably hot that they retreated to Veronica's living room.

They have been reading in silence for almost an hour when Veronica finally brings up the topic she's been thinking about all summer.

"Have you already narrowed down where you want to go to college?"

Bernard doesn't look up from his copy, but Veronica is paying enough attention to notice him tense for just a second. "Previously, yes. When I was under the impression that I must remain a commutable distance from my grandfather, I had compiled a suitable list of institutions of higher education."

"And now?"

Bernard finally faces her. "Grandpa wants me to look further," he admits with a sigh. "Now that the entire country is at my disposal, I have to admit that I am quite overwhelmed."

Veronica doesn't want to seem giddy, but she is. "Well, what are the schools that are nationally ranked for your preferred field of study?"

He smirks at her. Veronica errantly thinks that he wouldn't have done that seven months ago. "Are you asking because you wish to know what said preferred field of study is?"

She looks him right in the eye. "Yes."

His smirk turns into a casual grin. "I am indecisive between political journalism and linguistics. It seemed as though there are very few degrees specialising in political journalism to begin with, so – assuming I decide to pursue that route – I suppose then I would get a journalism degree with a minor in political science. I have been assured that, at many institutions, I can declare a major any time before the end of the first year, and I plan on spending that year finalising a decision."

Veronica smiles to herself. She did guess something along those lines, but it feels good knowing she was right.

Bernard continues, "I can't afford to apply to more than twelve colleges, and I wish to follow Guidance Counselor Llanes's wisdom regarding safety, target, and reach schools. However, there are so many options from which to choose for each range. I am unsure how I should go about narrowing down the list."

"Sheila in student council made some Excel sheet to help visualise that decision, actually. Maybe it can help you?" Veronica offers.

Bernard considers it. "That sounds efficient. Yes, please forward it to me."

Veronica grabs her laptop, and they migrate to his house since Bernard and his grandfather only have one desktop computer between them. ("You know you're going to have to get a laptop in college, right?" "Not necessarily. Some schools have loan programs or computer centers of which I can avail myself." "Sure, but they can be inconvenient and unreliable. You should just get one of your own." "Your suggestion has been recorded and filed away for future consideration, Veronica." "You're insufferable!")

They begin populating the spreadsheet together, and the reason Veronica even brought this up in the first place finally presents itself: Bernard's reach list.

UPenn, Vanderbilt, Brown, Stanford, Northwestern, Cornell, Pitzer, University of Southern California, Pomona, UC Berkeley.

She frowns, then reads it again.

UPenn, Vanderbilt, Brown, Stanford, Northwestern, Cornell, Pitzer, University of Southern California, Pomona, and UC Berkeley.

But of course, the list hasn't changed.

She is _hurt_, and she barely takes the time to process it before she reacts. "I notice Yale isn't on this list. Although, I can't imagine why. Yale probably has high-ranking programs in all three of your potential majors. Unless, of course, you enjoy settling for less-than-the-best. That sounds like you."

As soon as the words come out, she wishes she could take them back. She didn't mean to sound so _mean_.

Bernard gives her a sidelong glance, understanding the subtext behind her vitriol immediately. He hesitates for a moment before commenting, "Empirical evidence suggests high school romances that follow each other to the same college are likely to break up within the first month of classes."

And just like that, Veronica's guilt evaporates. "Were you planning on breaking up with me after graduation, then?" she accuses.

To his credit, Bernard keeps calm in the face of his girlfriend's mounting wrath. "I had no such intention. I was merely quoting someone else's conclusion."

Veronica keeps her hard gaze levelled at him. Bernard sighs and mutters to himself, "I had expected to have this discussion with you at a later date, but my timeline was not very strict…"

Speaking clearly and raising his eyes to hers, he continues. "I believe it would be disrespectful to us both if we had prematurely terminated our relationship in anticipation of a potential failure. It would only serve to expedite our unhappiness, and there is no prevailing evidence suggesting that our romance would not survive such a tribulation."

Mollified but still brimming with emotion, Veronica agrees. Bernard lets out a breath he was unaware he was holding.

After a beat, he jokes, "For the record, Yale only had a high-ranking program in _two_ of my fields of interest."

Veronica swats him on the shoulder, but she settles down on the couch and opens her laptop to begin the research. As she rambles about the FAFSA and extra-curricular offerings, Bernard silently muses to himself that thirteen schools isn't an unreasonable number.

* * *

**mid Sept 2016**

Whenever the opportunity presents itself, Bernard lets Veronica drive him home.

"Wanna catch a movie or something this weekend? There's some indie, high school, coming-of-age thing coming out; it could be cute," Veronica asks without taking her eyes off the road. She knows how much that bugs him.

"Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline. My father's birthday is imminent, but it will be difficult for me to visit him on the day-of. I plan on conducting my customary rituals this weekend."

His voice is as neutral as it always is, which is why it takes Veronica a second to understand what he means. When she does, she takes a quick look at him in surprise. "Please keep your eyes on the road, Veronica!" he exclaims with all the emotion with which she would have expected him to deliver his previous statements.

She doesn't talk again until she turns onto his street, and then she stops him before he can leave the car. "Would you like some company?" she asks softly.

Bernard considers her offer seriously. He has always been alone when he celebrated his father's birthday, and he is unsure if he wanted to break that tradition. Then, he thinks that if his father were alive, he would have loved to meet Veronica.

"I would. Thank you."

That Saturday, she wears black because she doesn't know what else to wear when you meet your boyfriend's dead father for the first time. She arrives at the Flannigans' at eleven o'clock sharp and offers to drive all three of them to the cemetary.

"Grandpa will not be joining us today," Bernard informs her as he joins her on the front porch. She offhandedly notices that he's wearing his bookbag. "He has his own traditions for the death of his son."

Veronica tries not to let the shock show on her face. Before this moment, she honestly didn't know know if Oswald was his paternal or maternal grandfather.

"Would you mind if we rode the Yellow Submarine to the cemetery?" he asks in his same neutral tone, but Veronica senses that there is a correct answer to this question.

Bernard parks the bicycle near the welcome center, and he leads her in silence to the edge of the property. As they approach, Veronica can see a carved stone bench situated in front of three identical gray granite gravestones.

"Hello, Grandmother. Hello, Mother. Hello, Father," Bernard greets earnestly as he approaches. Veronica follows his lead and sits down on the bench to face the final resting places of the biggest influences in her boyfriend's life. Time and exposure have worn away some of the text, but the bulk of it is still readable. The three stones are obviously very well cared for.

ELIZABETH I. FLANNIGAN  
? ?, 1928 - MAY 28, 2009 [3]  
WIFE, MOTHER, GRANDMOTHER, EDUCATOR

DR. EUGENE Q. FLANNIGAN  
SEPT 19, 1966 - DEC 28, 2005  
HUSBAND, FATHER, EDUCATOR, SKIER

DR. CYNTHIA P. FLANNIGAN  
JUNE 2, 1968 - DEC 28, 2005  
WIFE, MOTHER, ?, SKIER

Bernard takes a breath and says. "I bear no flowers, though I have brought a guest. Unorthodox, I am aware, but I trust you will pardon the variance from past visits. I previously introduced her to you as my campaign manager, but since then we have embarked on a romantic relationship." He turns and smiles at Veronica. "She makes me very happy." Veronica offers a shy smile in return.

Bernard clears his throat and continues, "To borrow from the Sri Lankan customs of the Buddhist faith, I have brought water to pour into an overflowing cup to symbolise giving merit to the deceased. Veronica, would you help me?"

From his bookbag, he takes out three mugs that he brought from home and instructs her to balance one on each tombstone. Together, they fill each mug to the brim with water from some bottles he also brought. He motions for her to sit, and she watches him pour more water into each mug. She becomes hyper-fixated as the rivulets of water form on the lip of the mug and pool at the base.

He pours even more water into his father's cup, and one stream of water makes it over the edge of the stone and drips down to the carved letters.

Once he is done, Bernard returns to the bench and slowly proceeds to fill everyone in since the last time he visited. Based on the events he recounts, Veronica surmises that he has not been back since before the elections, at least.

She does not interrupt him, mostly from a lack of something to say. She has never visited the grave of someone important to her before, and she is feeling quite out of her element.

When Bernard finishes, he seems peaceful. Veronica, on the other hand, is so out of her comfort zone that she cannot sit in that peace for long, despite her best efforts to restrain herself.

"Do you want to sing him a happy birthday?" she blurts out.

Bernard raises his eyebrows at his girlfriend in shock. She has not spoken at all since the water-pouring, and the thing she suggests is decidedly divergent from his customary birthday traditions. He says as much.

"Oh," Veronica intones. She looks away to hide her embarrassment, and Bernard hastily reaches for her hand to correct himself. "It is not a bad idea, however."

He turns back to his father's gravestone, and it is his turn to be embarrassed. He hopes his cheeks are not too red when he begins singing.

Veronica joins in at the second recitation of 'happy birthday to you,' and she can't help but notice that his singing voice is not bad. To her amusement, it's the same pitch as his speaking voice, and he has obviously had no training, but it's still soothing somehow.

After they finish singing, they sit in silence for a moment. Then Bernard murmurs, "Your singing voice appropriately matches your countenance," his voice as neutral as ever.

For just an instant, Veronica is no longer at the cemetery. First, she is in Starbucks with a racing heart and fighting a blush. _Yes, Veronica. I think you have a beautiful mind and a beautiful body. _Then she is in her car, driving to her junior prom._ Her thoughts serenely sweet express how pure, how dear their dwelling-place_.

At once, she feels the cold, hard surface of the stone bench beneath her again. Bernard is still facing forward, and Veronica is still in love.

* * *

**early Oct 2016**

"I don't think I can do this," she hyperventilates. The fear that she might crush the lone flower in her hand only adds to her mounting anxiety.

"Yes, you can!" her friend responds exasperatedly. "We're literally walking to her hallway right now."

They turn the corner, and she stops in her tracks. "Oh my god, there she is."

"Of course she's here! We recon'ed her locker _every_ day last week so that you couldn't miss her and wimp out!"

Harinakshi shakes her head rapidly as she seriously contemplates turning tail. "No, no. I can't do this; I'm not ready!"

Anisha almost goes as far as to physically slap some sense into her friend, but she barely reigns in that impulse. "You've memorised your lines. You've wanted this for _ages_. The chance is right in front of you! Stop being a little bitch and _take it_."

Instead of waiting for a response, Anisha pushes Harinakshi fowards and hides around the corner.

Out in the open, Harinakshi senses no other option but to keep moving forward. She takes measured steps towards her goal, one foot in front of the other, and eventually reaches the open door of the locker of the girl she's secretly harboured a crush on for months. Anisha watches surreptitiously around the corner.

"Hey, Veronica," she greets with as much confidence she can muster.

Veronica jumps a little bit in surprise. "Oh, hey! Harkinashi, right?"

_She knows my name!_ she internally sighs. "Harinakshi, but close!" she replies giddily.

Veronica grimaces slightly. "Ah, sorry. _Harinakshi_. What's up?"

Harinakshi breathes in once, and on the exhale asks, "Would you go to homecoming with me?" She pulls her hand from behind her back, revealing a light pink tulip with a slightly bruised stem.

"Um, what?" Veronica blurts out in astonishment.

Slightly disheartened by the abrupt reaction, Harinakshi can only repeat herself with a slightly more hopeful tone. "I'd really love if I could accompany you to homecoming," she says, extending the tulip to Veronica.

Harinakshi sees a flash of pity in Veronica's (_soulful, verdant_) eyes, and she already wants to crawl into a hole and die there.

"I'm sorry, Harinakshi. I'm already going to homecoming with someone else," Veronica lets down as nicely as possible, but the words still ring in Harinakshi's ears.

"Oh. Yeah. Of course," Harinakshi stutters as she backpedals. "That makes sense. I should have known. You can pretend this never happened if you want to. I know I will. Oh, ugh, I shouldn't have said that. I, um. I'm gonna go. See you around."

From her hiding spot, Anisha can see her friend's tense body back away, and she knows that she will be buying a lot of ice cream tonight. She steps forward to initiate the back-up retrieval protocol she and Harinakshi had established... when disaster strikes.

In her haste to escape the situation, Harinakshi stumbles right into Bernard.

"_Namaskar_, Harinakshi. How are you two ladies today?" he greets congenially.

Harinakshi is so embarrassed that she promptly bursts into tears.

Anisha finally swoops in. "Hey, Barf-_Ber_nard, Veronica. Please excuse Harinakshi. Her, uh, pet just died. She's still very affected, as you can tell. I'll take it from here. You two have a good day now."

As she talks, she wraps Harinakshi in her arms and walks them away slowly. She parts with a brusque "Don't make a big deal out of this" as she finally turns the corner.

Veronica and Bernard stare after them silently. A moment later, Harinakshi's wail of "_I'm so pathetic!_" echoes down the corridor.

"What just occurred?" Bernard asks.

Veronica sighs. "Harinakshi asked me to homecoming, and I guess she was upset that I was already going with someone."

Bernard raises his eyebrows in surprise. "I have to admit: I did not quite see that coming."

"You and me both," Veronica replies as she closes her locker door. Together they begin to walk to AP Calc BC, their one shared class of the year.

"When were you going to tell me that we were going to homecoming?" Bernard queries.

Veronica stares at her boyfriend incredulously. "Was that not obvious?" she asks sarcastically.

"Not very, no."

"Bernard, we're going to homecoming," Veronica responds flatly.

"I was under the impression that asking someone to a dance involved a touch more romance than that," he parries cheekily.

"You're a dummy."

* * *

Just like for Junior Prom, Veronica picks up Bernard. There is fortunately less interjection from their guardians this time around on the contingency that Veronica and Bernard get pictures from the event photographer. She is wearing a spring green strapless homecoming dress and white heels. At her behest, he is matching with a spring green button up, a black vest, and black slacks. She privately muses that in her heart of hearts, this is exactly what she expected her senior year of high school to look like.

They arrive at the exact time the event was scheduled to begin, and the catering hall was steadily filling with their peers. Streamers, balloons, and table cloths were festooned with the school colours of cerulean and white, and several tables near the stage were sectioned off for the school's sports teams and their dates.

Having not planned this event herself, Veronica didn't get first pick of tables, which posed a problem since neither she nor Bernard gained any new connections other than each other after the Board of Ed elections. They did become more popular, but only in the sense that more people recognised their names. That isn't quite enough in the face of a whole evening sitting at a table of otherwise strangers.

They end up with some of the theatre kids. The couple soon discover that as long as they didn't display any ignorance regarding the world of Broadway, they would be fine.

After taking the requisite photographs, Bernard offers to get the two of them something to drink. He was waiting his turn when Ellie Bustamante leans over and asks Bernard if he voted yet. Delighted, he answers, "I prefer to vote in-person, but I wholeheartedly support using New Jersey's mail-in ballot system. Have you already picked yours up?"

Ellie, for her part, looks very concerned. "Um, I voted for Homecoming King and Queen, if that's what you meant. It's what _I_ meant."

Bernard's delight remains for a wholly different reason. "There is a democracy associated with this event? I was unaware."

"Uh, yeah. Booth's over there," she says, pointing to a special table near the back of the gym.

Bernard looks over in curiosity, and Ellie walks away, less than impressed with Bernard.

When he returns to the table, Veronica gives him a panicked look. "What took you so long? They were going around and debating Lea Michele's version of 'Don't Rain on My Parade' against Barbra Streisand's! I don't think they were very, uh, _satisfied_ with my response."

Bernard ignores her, knowing by now that she is merely venting. "Why didn't you tell me there was a democratic component of the homecoming dance? I have to say, Veronica, many experts cite open communication as being pivotal to a successful and long-lasting romantic relationship. Your actions are not very conducive to the same."

Veronica looks at him quizzically before realising, "Oh, you mean Homecoming King and Queen? It's just one big popularity contest." She continues quickly before Bernard can cut her off, "Even more so than public elections. These are merely titles and not roles. Once the night is over, no one cares who Homecoming King and Queen are."

"Why didn't you withdraw from the ballot if that's how you feel?" a voice from behind her asks.

The couple's attention turns to Kylie Ugozi, as does the attention of everyone else on the table.

"What are you talking about? I did withdraw. I was way too busy with some other Student Council things to even help with the dance, much less campaign for Queen."

Some people on the table immediately grimace. Kylie comments, "Something must have happened because… your name is _definitely_ still on the ballot."

Veronica's eyes widen almost comically. "Oh no."

Kylie shrugs in response. Veronica desperately wants to ask if anyone has voted for her, but she already knows the answer.

She's okay with this, she reminds herself. She tried to take herself out of the running in the first place because Homecoming Queen isn't a position you can list on the CommonApp, afterall. She reasonably wouldn't win anyway since she didn't campaign for it. No one would think she cares. She _doesn't_ care.

She sighs to herself. It may not affect her future, but it sure is affecting her now.

Bernard sees the resignation on his girlfriend's face and wonders. He would be the first to admit that he cannot guess what Veronica might be feeling at the moment or even why, but he thinks he knows what to do.

"Veronica, would you like to dance?" he asks as he stands up and outstretches his hand.

Veronica accepts, and he leads them to the dancefloor… and keeps walking through. Veronica is perplexed, but she follows his lead anyway. She doesn't offer resistance until she realises where they're going.

"What are you doing, Bernard?" she asks tiredly.

"Exercising my civil rights," he says without an ounce of sarcasm.

"I thought you wanted to dance," she accuses.

"That was merely a mechanism to separate ourselves from the table. I sensed you were discomfited and presumed you would prefer to be so without perceived judgement from our peers," he says as he begins filling out a ballot.

"Well, you're not wrong…" she trails off as she bashfully holds her elbow with her hand.

Bernard places his ballot in the box and turns to his girlfriend. "And I also wanted you to have visual proof that no matter what occurs tonight, you know that at least one person voted for you."

It takes a second for Veronica to really understand what just happened, and Bernard is pleased at the way her face lights up.

He catches her tackle-hug in stride but is completely thrown off by the firm kiss she gives him afterwards.

"Bernard, you are the best boyfriend ever," Veronica gushes.

Bernard instantly frowns. "You know how I feel about unnecessary hyperbole."

She giggles and pulls him to the dance floor.

A few songs later, Principal Greely calls for the homecoming court candidates to take the stage and for everyone else to take their seats.

Veronica hesitates before walking up; but when Bernard gives her hand a squeeze, she remembers that she has the vote of the one person that matters. She gives him a quick smile and takes off, Bernard happily watching after her.

"Livingston High Bears!" Principal Greely booms from the stage. "It is finally the moment you've all been waiting for: the crowning of this year's Homecoming Court!" he exclaims to boisterous applause.

"I know just as much as you do, folks. Why don't we do something about that? Please welcome to the stage: Holly Sawicz, the head of the Homecoming Committee, who carries with her the results from tonight's voting!"

As Holly walked across the stage to polite applause, both Bernard and Veronica could see the uneasiness on her face. She stepped close to Principal Greely and whispered something to him. After a muted conversation, he nods in understanding. Holly gives an awkward wave to the crowd before scurrying off the stage.

"Tonight's a good one, folks! One of the winners tonight is actually not on this stage. We have a write-in candidate, everybody! I am just as excited as you are to find out who it is," the principal proclaims. A murmur immediately begins amongst the students, everyone wondering just how this is going to unfold.

"As always, we begin with our King," Principal Greely says as he opens the envelope. "Livingston High's Homecoming King of 2016 is… Bernard Flannigan?!" he announces in shock.

The resulting cacophony is deafening, everyone in attendance recognising his name and roaring with approval. Bernard does not even feel himself being jostled by his fellow students towards the stage as the shock from the announcement dulls all of his senses. It is not until he almost trips up the steps to the stage that he becomes aware that he is no longer standing where he was before.

He immediately looks over to see Veronica's reaction, and he does not know how to feel about the incredulous humour on her face.

"Help me!" he mouths as he walks forward, but Veronica only, infuriatingly, shrugs.

The spotlight feels brighter than the sun, and the plastic crown Principal Greely puts on his head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds. Cognisant that he has the attention of every single student in the building, Bernard tries to keep the intense confusion from showing on his face.

"Guess we know who the write-in was, huh, folks? What a surprise!" Principal Greely exclaims. "Now let's see who the lucky Bear is that gets to wear the Queen's crown! Your Homecoming Queen of 2016 is… Anastasia Rodriguez!"

An athletic senior in a golden form-fitting dress steps forward to accept her crown with a gigantic smile on her face, but it is obvious that the crowd is not as excited about this development as they were about Bernard's crowning. Anastasia's smile falters, but she quickly checks herself.

"Make room on the dancefloor, folks, and let the King and Queen of 2016 have their dance," Principal Greely says as the DJ plays an acoustic version of _Roses_ by the Chainsmokers.

Bernard takes Principal Greely's cue to lead Anastasia back to the gym floor. He locks his arms into a standard ballroom frame, which thankfully places his hand over a clothed part of Anastasia's back, and woodenly sways to the beat.

"Come on, Bernie," Anastasia says to break the ice a moment later. "I know you got more rhythm than that."

"You will, of course, excuse my unimpressive dancing in light of the absolutely incredible occurrence not even five minutes ago. Additionally, my name is Bernard."

"If you think it's so incredible, you could stand to smile about it," she says with a raised eyebrow.

"I am using the term denotatively. I genuinely cannot believe it happened, hence 'incredible.'"

"Well, how do you think I feel, Mr. Incredible? I get crowned Homecoming Queen, and no one gives a shit because you were the wild card tonight. And you don't even want the attention."

Bernard looks at her inscrutably. "You would be correct about that."

As soon as the song ends, he drops Anastasia's hands and beelines for Veronica, waiting by the stage. "Do you want to get some air?" he asks meaningfully.

Veronica already has her keys in her hands. "You know it."

She drives them out to South Mountain Reserve because Bernard says he has never been before. The primarily bipedal person he is, he hardly ever gets to go out this far west, and it's a treat.

"Who is Anastasia Rodriguez?" he asks as they hike one of the trails in the waning sunlight. "She gave off the impression that I should know who she is."

If Veronica were more insecure in their relationship, she would have taken great pleasure in his question. As it is, she just laughs. "She's a senior and captain of the Varsity Cheer Squad. She's easily the most popular girl in school."

Bernard just nods in response, and Veronica grins. "What? Homecoming King of 2016 didn't enjoy his dance with Aphrodite?"

He ignores her dig and instead says, "I have to confess, this is the first time I've ever heard of a write-in candidate winning anything, even in high school."

"Well, Strom Thurmond, you haven't really had the prototypical high school experience, have you?"

Bernard groans. "Please, never associate me with that troglodyte ever again." Veronica grabs his hand in response.

They walk like that down the path until they come across a small river, where they decide to sit on some rocks along the shore and hang out. In the still of the evening, they can hear the autumn wind gently rustling the branches. The golden leaves of the forest strain to reflect the vestiges of the sunset; and across the river, they can see fireflies blink in and out of existence. The clean smell of the earth and water instantly relaxes them. Out here, Bernard feels like nothing else matters.

Movement to his side causes him to look over, and he sees Veronica deposit her heels on the side of the rock she was sitting on and dip her feet into the bank of the river. Her motion distorts the reflection of the stars in the stream, and her eyes are trained upwards, a content smile on her face. The moon illuminates her profile, and Bernard idly thinks to himself that Shakespeare must be daft if he thinks a summer's day has anything on an autumn night.

* * *

[1] I changed the lyrics to the song to make it less basic. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

[2] According to the credits, yes, that is how you spell her name.

[3] It actually says "1968 - MAY 28, 2009" in the movie, but that's gotta be an error because that makes NO sense! lol


End file.
